Page 19 of How Freaking Romantic

The Washington Arch looms ahead of us, casting a long shadow on the center of the park and framing Fifth Avenue’s straight path uptown.

I didn’t know where I was expecting Nathan to take me when I followed him out of the building, but it wasn’t an empty bench in Washington Square Park.

Yet that’s where we are. And thanks to the cloudless sky and a temperature just above fifty degrees, the rest of NYU seems to have had the same thought.

The park is crowded with students lounging on every available surface, talking and laughing and occasionally playing guitar. There’s even one guy with a lute.

But Nathan and I sit in silence. It stretches out for a few minutes before he finally speaks.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is low, a deep, smooth sound.

“Nothing.”

This is a lie, of course. There’s so much wrong I’m having a hard time keeping track of it all.

He sighs. “There’s something on your mind.”

God, how did he notice that? Why did he notice that? It’s unnerving how he seems to know me so well, and I don’t have the defenses to combat it.

“It’s nothing.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Okay.”

I roll my eyes. “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Convey your skepticism without actually saying anything except, like, one word.”

“Okay.”

Oh my God, he did it again .

I let out a frustrated groan. I’m too tired to prop up this anger and it depletes, leaving my body feeling thin and fragile. “It’s nothing, Nathan.”

He stares at me, waiting for me to continue.

“Fine, okay.” I push a few stray curls away from my face. “Two of my best friends just called to tell me they got engaged.”

“Is that bad news?”

“No, it’s just…” My tongue trips over the words.

How do I explain it? I had felt like the glue between our group of friends for so long, defined myself by that role.

And now it was all falling apart. “Travis and Maggie have been together for years. They love each other and spend all their time working on renovating this house upstate that will never really be renovated, but they don’t care because they love doing it.

Things are good. I mean, they’re living together.

That alone is a serious commitment. So I don’t understand why. ”

“Why they’re getting married?”

“Why anyone gets married.”

He sighs, and I already know his tone will be sarcastic before he even says, “Well, Bea, when a person falls in love with another person—”

“Oh my God,” I say, working to suppress a laugh.

“I’m not saying the act of marriage. But why take the risk?

Why change something that’s already working?

You make this huge promise to another person when loving them is easy, but no one tells you how that love could just as easily end with a fight about who gets the silverware or how to divide up the sofa. ”

Nathan leans back, his legs stretched out and his clasped hands resting between his hips. “Sometimes arguing about a sofa is the easiest way to quantify those feelings without admitting that they’re still there.”

“Tell that to the sofa.”

He smiles, and I see a hint of his dimple. It sends a flutter through my body.

“I just don’t get it,” I continue, flitting my gaze away from his face to where my sneaker kicks at some dirt. “Love is hard enough without chancing a legal mess.”

He lets that sit in the air for a moment. “Not all divorces are acrimonious, Bea.”

I know what he’s really saying: they’re not all like Josh and Jillian . But even if we both understand the intimation, neither of us acknowledges it.

“I’ve seen your office, Nathan,” I say with a smirk. “You don’t pay that rent with amicable splits.”

Silence again. His expression is pensive, like he’s caught something buried beneath my words and he’s examining it, dissecting its layers. Then he leans forward, his elbows on his knees as he seems to study something at the far end of the park. “I almost got married once.”

My pulse trips as my brow pinches with confusion. “Are you serious?”

He nods.

“What happened?”

“Life got hard,” he says with a shrug. It’s another moment before he continues.

“I met Rebecca my second year here. We were both doing pro bono work with the same nonprofit. She was brilliant and gorgeous and had the same goals I did. It all just sort of fell into place. We moved in together after just a few months, started planning a future. Then my mom got her MS diagnosis…” The words drift off as he seems to get lost in a memory.

Then his back straightens and he scratches his jaw.

“My parents took out a second mortgage to pay for her treatment, and it still wasn’t enough.

She had to quit her job sooner than expected, and bills started piling up.

They never asked me for help, but they would have lost the house if I didn’t.

So, after graduation, I turned down the position I had lined up with the nonprofit I’d been working with and started at a private practice instead.

It was long hours, stressful, and every weekend I was heading up to see them. It was a lot.”

“Is that why you two broke up?”

That muscle in his jaw ticks again. “It contributed to why we broke up.”

I let out a long breath and lean back. “Life always gets hard.”

His head cocks to the side as if he’s considering.

“My parents made it look so easy, though. After the breakup, when I went home to see them, I almost felt like I had disappointed them somehow. Then, one morning, I volunteered to take my mom to a doctor’s appointment.

I wanted to give my dad a break, but he still insisted on coming.

And after she went in and we were in the waiting room, I asked him why he had been so adamant.

I mean, none of this was easy. He deserved a break.

And he just sort of shrugged and smiled and said: ‘Love’s not supposed to be easy. But if you’re lucky, it’s simple.’?”

Not easy, just simple , I think as I let out a long breath.

Nathan turns back to face me, a soft smile teasing his lips. The sun streams down through the branches of the surrounding trees, casting shadows across his face. It highlights the sharp lines of his jaw, the different shades of blue in his eyes.

“What’s really bothering you, Bea?” he asks, like he knows the heart of it. He just needs me to say it out loud.

And I think about the years I had spent holding on to love for the people around me, how much I gave to make sure they were happy and safe—only to still be here, in the same place, as they all moved on.

“I feel like I’m getting left behind by everybody I love,” I whisper. I hate that I say it even though I don’t think I could have kept it trapped inside me any longer.

“But you still love them,” he says.

I nod. “Yeah.”

He reaches up and tucks a curl behind my ear. “Then it’s simple.”

Silence. I know I should say something, offer up some wry response, but I can’t muster the strength to do anything but maintain his gaze.

It feels like he can see everything, all the raw and scary bits, all the scars deep down that I have hidden away.

It’s a look that leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

But for the first time I don’t hate it. I don’t hate it at all.